so it's diwali night now. i can hear crackers in the background, colours and lights everywhere. its my favourite festival.so for all you people reading this, have a blissful, joyous, happy diwali!
love.
the most unending, elusive, mysterious that we all love and hate all the time.
loss.
something that we deal with, because we have to for everyones sake.
but when both come together, it makes for a painful combination.
today my grandmother was discharged from the hospital with a clean chit of health, so yaaaay.
but today is also one day closer to the date that my best friend will leave bombay, beloved, addictive bombay and go to the land of diamond merchants and khaman dhokla. and i may not see him in a long time now.
i completely hated him from my guts when i first met him in my engineering class. he kept showing the finger to every teacher, and seemed arrogant.then, in the second year he ditched me for a technical presentation. and i was left in front of all my professors and i couldnt talk for more than 30 secs on electromagnetic interference.
i hated him more.
but somehow, at some point, the equation changed. he was and has been the only person till date who completely accepted me with all my faults.the only person who reminds me to do my eyebrows. the only person who calls me a bitch, a whore and can still get away with it. the person who taught me to be an adult and a child at the same time. the only person who taught me not to care a damn about the world. and then some.
with him, i learned to love the trains. i learned to believe in myself. with him, i roamed the streets of bombay and fell in love with the city. i bought books from the roads, i spent hours in the meuseums, learnt how to learn, learned not to be afraid of myself, and i also learned that it was ok to be so.
he's not my boyfriend.and never will be. i doubt whether my boyfriend (whenever that will happen) will love me like he did. and i seriously doubt if my boyfriend can make fun of my armpits.
but i love him. unconditionally. as is. no change required.
he's a brilliant writer, an eccentric dreamer with a heart of gold. and if you knew him the way i do, you'd say the same. he's my wierd and wonderful stick man. a refugee stick insect on bata sandals, kicking dirt on the borivli platform.
i know he's not going away forever. i know this is too melodramatic. but i will miss his everyday presence in my life. and i know he'll miss me.
love and loss.
